


Running With Scissors

by willowsandwonders



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Canon Typical Violence, F/M, Fake AH Crew, M/M, More tags to be added, both are completely inept at dealing with romance, descriptions of injuries, non-explicit sexual content in later chapters, ray and michael centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 15:19:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4569408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/willowsandwonders/pseuds/willowsandwonders
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael Jones was doing just fine, he was in the top ring of the Fake AH Crew and loving every second. At least, things were fine until he finds himself falling for one of his best friends. Things get a little more complicated after that.<br/>It really doesn't help that neither of them want to talk about it, perfectly content to pretend that nothing's happening.<br/>Besides, it's normal to want to see your best bro shirtless, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the Raycheal party, hope you enjoy your stay  
> Also warning, this chapter has descriptions of injuries including stitches and stuff of that nature  
> Edit: I went back in and fixed an error, it may say that it updated, sorry if that's the case!

Michael had never seen Ray shirtless, that was a fact. He was also extraordinarily curious as to what that would look like, that was also a fact. The crew had never cared too much about modesty, if you were staying at the penthouse and someone didn’t feel like wearing pants that morning, you just had to be subjected to watching them walk around in their boxers, it was how the system worked. But Ray, he was always tucked up in those purple hoodies he liked, Michael was fairly certain he owned at least a dozen of them. And hell, he wasn’t one to judge, Ray could show up in a full length gown and he wouldn’t care, but the curiosity was eating away at him. The intrigue was being heartily fanned by a growing…fondness that he didn’t like to name, if he breathed a word of it to anyone in the crew they’d be assholes about it the way that they always were and try to set the two of them up, cut those stupid little knowing glances. He’d watched it go down with Gavin and Ryan, it had been _weeks_ of Geoff and Jack gleefully putting them on the same jobs and cracking jokes before _finally_ Geoff yelled for them to ‘fucking make out already’ and locked the two of them in the penthouse. That was something Michael did not want to deal with, ever. He could ignore whatever the hell was going on just fine, without a crew of notorious criminals playing matchmaker.

-

     He did eventually get his wish though, just not in the way he’d pictured. Ray was wearing one of his hoodies, the way he was always wearing one of his hoodies, and he was _supposed_ to be on a roof a block away sniping at the guys in the street, but instead he was on the street, standing between Michael and a small group of rival gang members, firing a goddamn _grenade launcher_ and raising hell. Michael was raising considerably less hell, partly because he was trying to assess a graze on his arm from a bullet that was way too close for comfort and also trying to wrap his head around why Ray had a _fucking hot pink grenade launcher_ and he was on the ground and not the roof, and partly because it was sort of hard to compete with the weapon of mass destruction that Ray had apparently pulled out of his ass with just a semi-automatic that was running low on ammo.

     And then, in the universe’s greatest fuck you, Ray got shot. It kind of went to shit after that. Michael dimly remembered the sound of the launcher hitting the ground, followed by Ray, and the startled yelp he let out an instant after. Michael must’ve finished off the rest of the people firing because before he could blink the street was quiet and he was kneeling next to Ray, who had his eyes squeezed shut and his hands pressed against his right side. Michael didn’t even think, just _moved_ , and he managed to haul Ray up and half lead, half drag him into an alleyway, his arm burning in protest. He propped Ray up against a bit of the wall he deemed reasonably clean, and then he panicked. His mind went blank, just a mantra of _‘Ray, Ray, Ray’_ over and over because Ray had gotten _shot_ and for all Michael knew he was going to bleed out in this fucking alley.

     “I’m not dying, idiot.” Ray mumbled, eyes still shut.

     Michael had been saying everything out loud. He was a fucking idiot. As it turned out, the embarrassment was able to ground him enough to actually do something useful. He ran a hand lightly across Ray’s back, no exit wound. That calmed him down a fraction; the bullet would slow down the blood flow until he could get Ray somewhere better. He moved to lift his hoodie and see how bad it was, but Ray lifted one hand off the growing bloodstain to weakly swat him away.

     “I’m fine, it’s fine, just—“

     “Ray you got _shot_ you’re not fucking fine! Now let me see what we’re dealing with.” Ray sighed and let Michael carefully lift up his hoodie and the shirt underneath, making sure none of it stuck to the wound. His mind cataloged the bullet wound a little above his right hip automatically, relatively small, not enough blood to have hit an artery, with any luck no irreparable damage to important organs. Nothing they hadn’t dealt with before. The sight of it was throwing him off though; he realized dimly that this had been the first time that he’d seen Ray badly hurt in months. Michael’s heart was racing, palms sweating, not sure why it was affecting him so much. He needed to focus.

     Michael shifted into autopilot, wrapping his own shirt around Ray’s wound and making sure Ray was keeping pressure on it before stepping out of the alleyway to get his bearings. They were a few miles away from the penthouse; he’d have to nab a car. He checked in with the others, confirming that everyone else was okay and telling Jack to grab some medical supplies and Caleb if he was nearby. Jack and Geoff were a ways off, still dealing with a sizable group of the gang that they were trying to wipe out of their turf and Ryan and Gavin were still looting their warehouse, leaving Michael on his own until they finished up.

     Hotwiring a car was not easy, especially without the proper tools (or a shirt) and blood all over his hands that he couldn’t distinguish between Ray’s and his own. But he didn’t make his way into the one of the city’s most notorious crews without a wide assortment of skills, so he managed. It took longer than he’d hoped, and getting Ray into the car without aggravating Ray’s wound was a challenge in itself, but he made up the time by breaking several traffic laws on the way back to the penthouse. It was risky as shit, even running a red light could lead to the cops recognizing them and tailing them back to the penthouse, but it was _Ray_ and Michael needed to get him somewhere where he could get stitched up.

-

     Neither of them spoke until Ray was sitting up against the bathroom wall and Michael was rifling through the cabinets for something more sophisticated than the Hello Kitty Band-Aids that someone kept buying to be a dick. The best he could find without leaving Ray to tear up the whole place were some painkillers, which he gave to Ray while he moved to replace his makeshift shirt bandage with a towel. A minor upgrade, but it felt more sanitary.

     “You left my grenade launcher behind.” Michael let out a surprised chuckle, there were a lot of things Ray could’ve said, but of course he was worried about his grenade launcher. It was very Ray-like, and it eased his heart a bit.

     “Sorry, I was a bit busy making sure you didn’t bleed out in an alleyway.”

     Ray cracked a grin. “Nah, I’d never die somewhere so gross. Silk sheets and at least a few fancy ass bouquets or nothing, man.” If it wasn’t for the blood still running over Michael’s hands or the pain ghosting in Ray’s eyes, it could’ve passed as any normal conversation between them. Michael’s heart burned with a weird sort of ache, because he could have lost this, still might. Shit could always go wrong, even with the odds favorably stacked. Ray seemed to be in relatively stable condition, and he’d already called in the medical cavalry. Caleb and Jack were good alone and even better working together, but still the fear crept in the back of his mind. Ray must’ve noticed Michael’s shift in thoughts, because he let out a sudden, “Seriously though, tell one of the guys to grab my grenade launcher before some pubescent gangster takes it.”

     Michael laughed again, even if it was a little strained, and took one hand off Ray’s chest to turn on his phone’s voice controls and send Ryan a text with the location of the launcher. Some of it was probably lost to the phone’s poor interpretation of his voice, but he got an almost immediate smiley face in response so it must’ve been enough. While he was at it he told his phone to send Jack a quick message, telling him to get the fuck back to the penthouse. He scowled at his phone when the reply wasn’t as fast as Ryan’s, they must’ve still been busy.

     He turned off his phone and leaned back against the wall next to Ray, making sure to keep pressure on his side. He found himself staring at the blood running down Ray’s stomach again, stark against his skin in the better lighting. His stomach churned at the sight, bad injuries in the crew always made him nervous, flared up his protective side, but this was something else. He suddenly wanted to tell Ray sappy shit, like how awesome he was or how good he looked mid-laugh, like light was shining through him. He immediately condemned the idea, that was the kind of shit that you told someone when they were dying and Ray was _not_ dying, not on his watch.

     “You should stitch up your arm.” He finally noticed that Ray was staring at him too, eyeing the graze on his arm with concern.

     Michael shrugged. “It’s fine, I’ll take care of it once Jack and Caleb take care of _you_ , alright? Ray nodded before scooting closer to Michael, wincing in the process, and gingerly resting his head on Michael’s shoulder. He didn’t question it, being hurt could mess with people’s emotions, make them do things that they wouldn’t normally do. The position was uncomfortable, he didn’t want to accidentally shake off Ray but he also needed to maintain pressure to keep the bleeding slow, but the point of contact was reassuring.

-

     They stayed like that for what felt like hours, but when Jack and Caleb showed up and Michael checked his phone they’d only been at the penthouse for a little over half an hour. They whisked Ray off to the kitchen, which doubled as a makeshift hospital when the necessity struck, leaving Michael sitting in an empty bathroom like a jackass. He spent a few empty minutes sitting very still and trying to quiet his nerves before the iron tang of the blood all over grew too much and he moved to the living room, perched on the edge of the couch so he didn’t get blood and dirt all over it and piss Geoff off. He also _might_ have been trying to eavesdrop on what was happening in the kitchen, but that was his business, not theirs.

-

     The others got back at some point, all busting in at once and firing off endless questions about what had happened, which he answered as best he could. Geoff tried to get into the kitchen and see what was up, but Jack kicked him out, saying that Ray was going to be fine but Geoff needed to be patient and wait. They all ended up awkwardly bunched on the couch, one of them occasionally getting up to clean off. The mood was tense and electric whenever someone was hurt worse than the usual bruises and grazes. Each minute stretched longer than it should’ve, no one really spoke. Michael assumed that they were probably trying to eavesdrop as well, or were still letting their heartbeats settle after all of the action.

     Jack ended up calling Michael to the kitchen, which made him immediately start worrying all over again. Ray was lying on the table, propping himself up on an elbow. He was a few shades paler, but it looked like the bleeding had slowed down considerably and with most of the blood off the area around the wound it didn’t look quite as bad.

     “Michael.” Caleb snapped him out of his thoughts, not even looking up from the instruments he was cleaning off. “I need you to hold Ray’s hand and distract him while we take the bullet out, okay?” They were in full doctor mode, Michael knew that asking why he’d been chosen even though it would only take one of them to pull it out would be fruitless, so he just nodded.

     A minute later, he decided that he’d been called in because neither of them wanted to _break their fucking hand_. To his credit, Ray didn’t make a sound, but Michael was losing feeling in his fingers. Both of them had Ray’s blood on their hands, the whole thing would normally be weird and gross, but rules changed when someone was hurt. Jack and Caleb didn’t seem fazed by any of it, everything about them radiating calm and professionalism.

     They managed to get the bullet out pretty quickly, not encountering any major organ damage along the way. It seemed to go quickly which Michael was glad for, even just watching the process made him wince in sympathy. He was kicked out after that, the wound still needed to get stitched and he was apparently ‘getting in the way’, even arguing to stay and be the ‘professional hand holder’ earned him nothing more than a glare from Jack and a smirk from Ray.

 

-

     He ended up back on the couch in a now empty living room, unable to muster the energy to go clean himself off. Even when jobs went well and everyone could walk it off, once the adrenaline faded they left him _drained_. His arm was throbbing with every heartbeat, it was a welcome distraction.

     Jack came in at some point to tell him that they’d moved Ray to the guest room (which was actually the recovery room, they just collectively and stubbornly refused to call it that) and Michael couldn’t visit Ray for at least a few hours because they had given him enough meds to knock out a horse and he wouldn’t be waking up for a while. Michael nodded, his mind still stuck replaying the image of Ray falling to the ground, Ray’s eyes shut against the pain, all of that hurt because he’d been on that street covering _him_. Michael didn’t think he could ever forget a second of it if he tried.

     “Hey kid.” Geoff called by way of greeting from the hallway before coming over and flopping down on the couch next to him, slinging an arm onto the back of the couch. “You should get someone to look at your arm, or at least get yourself cleaned up.” Michael hummed in acknowledgement, still not moving to get up.

     “It can be rough, you know,” Geoff continued, “seeing someone you care about hurting like that.”

     “We get hurt all the time, Geoff, it’s just how this job goes.”

     “I think you know what I mean.” Michael _didn’t_ know what he meant; it was hard to tell whether Geoff was simply being sympathetic as a crew member to a crew member, or if he’d caught wind of Michael’s situation with Ray. “I’ve known Ray for a very long time, longer than any of you.” What the fuck was Geoff playing at? Did he know? It _would_ make sense, Geoff knew damn near everything about them by now, but it left Michael wondering who else might know, if he hadn’t been as subtle as he thought. Geoff had apparently said all he’d wanted to, standing up and stretching, his back popping loudly.

     “I think you’d be good for him, though. Don’t prove me wrong.” He said before walking off towards the front door, leaving Michael’s mind in more of a mess than when he’d sat down. Had he just gotten the _shovel talk_ from _Geoff_? Fuck him and his cryptic bullshit.

     Ten minutes later, he was scrubbing blood off of his arms and dutifully ignoring the thoughts swirling around his mind. Ray’s blood was still on the tiles; his stomach lurched unpleasantly at the sight of it.

-

     Getting his arm stitched up by Jack was unpleasant, the feeling of the thread working through his skin made him shiver, but it was that or inevitably reopen the wound down the line. After thanking Jack for stitching him up he found himself with a lot of time and nothing to fill it with. Jack and Caleb were cleaning up the kitchen, Geoff had fucked off somewhere and wasn’t answering his phone, and Ryan and Gavin had gone to get Ray’s grenade launcher. He found himself pacing circles around the penthouse, playing shitty video games, downing a beer, anything to distract himself while waiting for Ray to wake up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back with the Thursday update! (which will probably be moving to weekends but I'll do my best)  
> Little less of a heavy chapter this time, hope you all enjoy!

     True to Jack’s word, Ray woke up a few hours later groggy and annoyed to be stuck in the guest room. At one point it actually _had_ been a guest room, a boring one with little more than a bed and a spare chair in the corner. A small bedside table had then been added for convenience, a horrific shade of yellow because none of them could take shopping for it seriously. Next had been a ‘Hang in there!’ cat poster that Geoff had put up to be an asshole, and then plastic glow in the dark stars on the ceiling that Gavin had insisted on after spending a few days there on ‘Caleb-watch’ with a collapsed lung. The whole room was really a testament to their interior design skills.

     Ray smiled sleepily when Michael walked in, eyes half-lidded.

     “How’re you feeling?”

     “Like I got shot and I don’t know where my favorite grenade launcher is, you?”

     “Like I’ve been waiting hours for a dumbass to wake up after getting shot. And don’t worry about it, I had Ryan grab it.”

     “The paint get chipped up?” Michael shrugged and threw himself down onto the chair next to the bed.

     “Fuck if I know, I was mostly focusing on making sure you weren’t about to kick the bucket.”

     Ray nodded, content enough with his answer. Michael made a mental note to have it repainted in the event that the paint _was_ messed up; Ray was very particular with his weapons.

     “Are we going to talk about why you had it with you in the first place? Or why you were on the street instead of covering me from the roof?”

     Ray wouldn’t meet his eyes. “That chair looks uncomfortable as fuck, you can lay on the bed if you want.” Michael obliged, getting as comfortable as he could without taking up too much space and crossing his arms beneath his head. They stayed like that for a few minutes in silence, staring up at the plastic stars above them.

     “They shot you.” Ray was still staring up at the ceiling, his face blank. It was like he hadn’t said anything at all.

     “They _grazed_ me. You’re the one they shot.” Ray shook his head, eyes still on the stars.

     “I couldn’t tell how bad it was through the scope. Besides, you’d wasted too much ammo, there were too many of them for you to handle on your own.”  

     “Fuck that, I would’ve been fine! You were in way more danger than I was, you didn’t even have body armor!” He could feel his temper flaring up; he’d been too busy being worried to be mad about the fact that Ray was a fucking self-sacrificing _idiot_.

     “ _But what if you weren’t?!_ ”

     Michael had been expecting Ray’s frustration to rise up and match his own, not for Ray to sound so _afraid_. If that tone coming from Ray didn’t shut off his anger in an instant, then nothing would. “What if they got a lucky shot and blew your head off? What then? What do you think Geoff would’ve done if I came back and you didn’t? What do you think _the crew_ would’ve done?” There was an “I” in there too that Michael could feel Ray refusing to say. He wanted so badly to ask the same thing to Ray, what would’ve happened if he _had_ died in that alley, but he bit it back.

     The silence got worse as the seconds ticked by. Any reply he could come up with was just flipping around what Ray had said, and that would get them nowhere.

     “I’ll see you later.” Ray was giving him a polite out for the situation, his face blank again. It was abundantly clear that Ray was done with the conversation, so Michael rolled off the bed and headed for the door, hoping that he hadn’t fucked things up _too_ badly. His hand was turning the doorknob when Ray spoke again.

     “Visit me tomorrow, alright?” Michael grinned and nodded.

     “Can do. You want me to bring Mario Kart or Pokémon?”

     “Surprise me.” Michael chuckled and was out the door, already weighing his options. It was a time honored tradition that they had, when one of them was on bed-rest the other brought a DS for each of them and they duked it out until their eyes burned and they were half asleep. Probably not the best for recuperation, but it sure as hell helped the boredom.

     And maybe they didn’t say it, but the video games took an edge off the awful feeling that settled in the pit of their stomachs with the knowledge that their best friend had been hurt, on worse days to know that their friend had almost _died_. Everyone in the crew pretended that it had gotten easier over time, that it was something you just got used to. That was bullshit. If anything it got harder; knowing that luck ran out eventually and you could only cheat death so many times.

     But Michael didn’t have time to dwell further on darker thoughts. He had to get back to his apartment and devise a battle strategy to kick Ray’s ass in tomorrow’s game-off. Ray had won the last tournament when Michael had been down with a badly sprained knee and two cracked ribs. He’d even beaten Michael at a Legend of Zelda speed run, both of them playing Link Between Worlds in a race for the Master Sword, which was totally bullshit, Michael had _tattoos_ from those stupid games, the least Ray could do was let him have a victory in them. Tomorrow he’d knock Ray off his high horse. But for that moment, he was content to smile at the memory of Ray’s dramatics at that Zelda victory, whooping and shouting like he’d won the lottery.

-

     Michael kept his word, coming back to the penthouse as soon as he was able to grab Ray’s DS from his apartment. It was another one of their unspoken rules; as long as you didn’t fuck with anything then the other was always welcome in their apartment. And even if Ray _wasn’t_ alright with Michael rifling through his game drawer for a Mario Kart SD card, he was shit at hiding his spare key. Who the hell still put it on top of the doorframe?

-

     Ray was still asleep when he walked in. Michael tried to ignore his disappointment, Ray needed as much rest as he could get.

     Or at least, he _thought_ that Ray was asleep, as soon as he unceremoniously plopped into the bedside chair he could’ve _sworn_ that he saw one of Ray’s eyes open a sliver. He studied his face carefully (which wasn’t creepy at all, nope, he was just investigating). Ray opened his eyes fully, letting out a sigh of relief. He slipped on his glasses that he’d apparently stashed just under the edge of the blanket and moved to better prop himself up on the pillows behind him.

     “Oh thank god, I was worried that you were Geoff.” Ray glanced warily at the door, like Geoff was ready to burst in at any second.

     “Don’t worry, I don’t think he’s at the penthouse right now.” Ray visibly sagged in relief. “He going momma-bird mode on your ass?”

   Ray snorted. “I _wish_. He’s pissed at me for not being where I should’ve been and getting hurt.”

     “You know he acts all pissy when he’s worried.”

     “Yeah, yeah, I know. But you can tell he’s got a speech worked up, I’ve been playing dead for hours now.”

     Michael flinched at ‘dead’, the memory of Ray’s blood bubbling up over his hands still too fresh.

     “Sorry, playing _unconscious_.”

     “Better.” Michael drew two DS’s from his bag, handing Ray’s to him with overdramatic flourish. “Wanna play some Mario Kart? Twenty bucks says I fucking _rinse_ you.”

     “Only twenty bucks? You’re on, fucking cheapskate.”

-

   Twelve grand prix’s later Michael was down 10-2 and Jack was kicking him out on the grounds that that much Mario Kart wasn’t good for _anyone’s_ health and told him that he could come back the next day. Ray tried to argue for Michael to stay, Jack argued that he could always just pick Michael up and _make_ him leave, so he had to concede defeat.

     “By the way, Ray.” Jack started to look a bit guilty, “Geoff wants to have a word with you.” Then, a little lower, “Sorry, I couldn’t hold him off any longer.”

     Michael shot Ray a look of sympathy before being herded out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ray you can't just play dead to avoid your problems   
> tune in next week for what is shaping up to be a shameless fluff chapter   
> By my very rough timeline I have going this should end up around ten or eleven chapters which is going to be a journey because as of this chapter this fic is longer than the longest fanfic I've ever finished   
> And apologies for the much shorter chapter, there wasn't too much to be done with both characters stuck in a room and unwilling to have serious conversations, but based on what I've got so far the next chapter should be longer   
> Thanks for reading!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did my best to hit my self-imposed Thursday deadline but I think it's going to fall just after midnight my time. Regardless, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

     Ray’s recovery went by quickly after that. They settled into an easy routine for almost a week, Michael showing up with video games or snacks or material for stupid conversations and staying for a couple of hours. A few days after his talk with Geoff (which neither of them would tell Michael anything about) Ray was given the go-ahead to return to his apartment, expressly forbidden from any strenuous activities, and threatened with physical violence if he tore his stitches.

     Michael didn’t see Ray in the days after he went home. It made sense, Ray was probably spending most of the time asleep and filling the rest of the time doing those video game achievement runs that he enjoyed, he’d seen him pop on the Xbox up as online a few times. Besides, it wasn’t exactly rare for crew members to not be heard from for a few days, god knew that Ray dropped off the map often enough, second only to Ryan, though normally he could be tracked down via Gavin on the off chance that he hadn’t filled the Brit in on it beforehand. A text would be nice, though. Of course he also didn’t want to bother Ray if he was asleep or wanted to be alone or anything like that. Would Ray think he was being clingy if he sent him a text? _God_ , sometimes he wished that the press could see him being a loser like this, it’d shake up the ‘big scary Mogar man make things go boom’ persona they had going. Maybe he could text Ray a link to the coverage on their latest job? There were some pretty funny surveillance shots of Geoff and Jack arguing over ammo that had been misinterpreted as nefarious plotting. Would Ray find that funny? Had he already seen it? Michael sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. If his brain was getting this worked up over whether or not to send a goddamn _text_ then it was probably a sign that he needed sleep immediately, only eight o’clock at night be damned.

-

     He woke up a few hours later to someone knocking on his door. His head still foggy from sleep he shoved on his glasses, reached for the pistol on the bedside table, and stumbled his way to the front door. He doubted that he was cutting an impressive figure but if someone was here to fuck with him then they could just deal with it.

     He threw open the door unceremoniously, gun leveled at where he thought the potential threat’s head might be. Sleepy as he may be, it only took him a second to lower his weapon.

     “ _Jesus Christ_ dude! Can’t a guy knock on doors without getting his head blown off?” Despite the dramatics, Ray didn’t really look all that bothered. Michael quickly noted that Ray had a bit more color in his cheeks than the last time he’d seen him, looked a bit steadier overall. Whatever he’d been up to the past few days had done him good. Then he realized that Ray was staring at him, probably waiting for him to do something besides wave a gun around.

     “You have a key,” he pointed out lamely, growing acutely of the fact that Ray was well put together, even just in jeans and a sweatshirt, but here he was wearing nothing but boxers and a tank top, hair likely sticking up in multiple directions.

     “I sent you a text but you weren’t answering.” Ray shot an intentionally obvious look at the gun held loosely in Michael’s right hand. “I think knocking was a good idea.”

     Michael shifted his weight back and forth, trying to decide whether or not he should apologize for pulling a gun on him. Considering their line of work it wouldn’t have been the first time Ray had had a gun waved in his face, but was it different since it was someone in his crew? If it was Gavin, they would’ve just laughed over it. Was he supposed to be laughing? Was he making it weird? Weirder than getting trigger happy when someone was just knocking on his door? His tired brain wasn’t cut out for this.

     “To be fair,” Ray spoke up from the doorway, “I did pull this when I saw the gun.” He lifted up the sleeve of his hoodie to show the blade of a knife against his palm, ready to be drawn all the way if there had been an actual threat.

     “You’ve been playing too much Assassin’s Creed this week, haven’t you?” And _there_ was the laughter, probably annoying the fuck out of his neighbors since it had to have at _least_ been past midnight but he couldn’t have cared less, seeing Ray’s face lit up in laughter was more than worth the grumbles he’d get the next day. Michael was laughing too; replaying memories of all the times Ray had tried to recreate scenes and stunts from the games, normally catastrophically.

     “So can I come in, or am I going to have to stand in the hallway all night like an asshole?” Ray said it without malice, eyes still crinkled from laughter. Michael flushed in embarrassment and stepped aside to let Ray in, shutting the door behind him.

     Ray wasted no time in sprawling himself out on Michael’s couch. Michael sat down at the other end, shoving Ray’s shoes off the upholstery with one hand.

   “So you came over here and woke me up because…?”

     “Netflix and chill?” Ray gave a torturously slow wink, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

     Michael tossed the throw pillow behind him square at Ray’s face. “Oh my fucking _god,_ that was terrible.”

     “You’re just jealous of how smooth I am.”

     “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”  

-

     As it turned out, Ray actually _was_ set on hanging out with Michael and watching movies. They flicked aimlessly through popular selections for a few minutes, Ray finally grabbing the remote and picking the first movie that popped up, Mean Girls. It was almost _always_ a movie like that when Ray had the remote, there was absolutely no way it was as random as he claimed. Ray seemed pretty pleased though, so he let it slide.

     So midnight found him next to Ray watching high school dramatics, lights from the TV flickering over the gun resting on the coffee table. In retrospect he probably should’ve put it away, but the couch was comfy and Ray’s shoulder was brushing up against his, Ray having abandoned his initial lazy sprawl at the other end of the couch in favor of scooting closer. Not that Michael was complaining, of course.

     They were about ten minutes into the movie when Ray started to fidget; Michael caught him shooting glances over at him before he’d turn his gaze back to the movie. Finally, enough was enough.

   “What the fuck are you doing?” Michael paused the movie and turned to Ray, who was looking more and more unsure by the second.

     Ray whirled to face him, mouth opening and then closing a second later. He shrugged, opened his mouth again. “You can spread out on the couch, if you want. I only see you sit that properly when you’re trying to beat a level in a game or something.” Ray was right, Michael was still weirdly on edge from being woken up so suddenly and the whole almost shooting Ray in the face thing. But why was Ray pointing it out?

     No matter what he had a point, Michael turned and slid down so that he was lying on the couch propped up on the armrest. He moved to make a show out of putting his legs over Ray in retaliation for interrupting the movie when Ray fidgeted again. Michael quirked an eyebrow.

     “Could I…?” he made a pantomime gesture with one hand, going from vertical to horizontal. Michael didn’t really know what exactly he meant, but he nodded anyway.

     Apparently Ray’s weird hand gestures translated to ‘I’m going to lie on top of you like a human pillow and make movie night awkward.’ But after a second filled with weird shuffling and a questionably intentional elbow to the ribs from Ray he found himself instinctively wrapping his arms around Ray’s upper chest, holding him in place. Ray was warm, and Michael was finding it surprisingly comfortable. He realized with a jolt that it _wasn’t_ awkward, and that was the problem. By all rights he should be uncomfortable and tell Ray to move, but instead he was _enjoying_ it.

     God damn, no wonder he’d gotten the shovel talk, they’d already ended up _cuddling_ of all things. Ray didn’t seem to be having the same internal freak-out, instead just humming contentedly and wiggling to get more comfortable. Michael fumbled for the remote, starting the movie up again and trying to get his mind to settle on a thought other than ‘ _Holy shit holy shit we’re cuddling what does that mean holy shit what the fuck—‘_

     And then it hit him. He had a crush on Ray. A gross, sappy, crush on his best friend. He could feel his face heat up, but the realization wasn’t as much of a shock as he’d thought it would be. Weeks, months even, of carefully shutting down trains of thought before they ended up anywhere all to put a name to it in all of two seconds. _Fucking fantastic._

     On the screen, the protagonist whose name had slipped his mind was navigating the cafeteria. Michael was paying more attention to the now very apparent scent of Ray’s cologne than the plot, but he was doing his best to follow along. At least he recognized a good number of quotes; he could probably recite half the script already after spending so much time with the movie fanatics he called his crew members.

     “On Wednesdays we _slay_ the pink.” Ray mumbled in deadpan, sending Michael into a laughing fit. Ray looked up at him over the rim of his glasses when he quieted down and grinned. “ _Dude,_ when you laugh I can feel your chest vibrating. It’s cute.” Michael blushed again, hoping it wasn’t too visible in the dim lighting. _God,_ he was in too deep.

-

     They were barely halfway into the movie when Michael noticed that Ray had fallen asleep, head lolling to the side and breaths deep. Michael followed suit a few minutes later, blinks getting longer and longer and the movie long forgotten.

     He woke up warm and happy to a bright apartment, vaguely surprised to find Ray still in his arms. The logical course of action would be to get up and make some breakfast, maybe even put on proper clothes if he was feeling generous. But Ray was a comfortable weight on his chest and he didn’t want to disturb him either. He shifted into a comfier position and closed his eyes again, letting his lingering drowsiness pull him back to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It didn't make the story, but Ray's actual text was really " netflix and chill? :-) "   
> I wrote the last four hundred or so words of this chapter while wearing ten hats that I put on for a joke and was too lazy to take off while a Spanish love song played in the background, what a wild life I lead.   
> If things go to plan, see you next Thursday! Thanks for reading!  
> (also aforementioned love song is 7 días by Andrés de León and it's super cute. I write a lot of these chapters with Stolen Dance by Milky Chance playing as well and I think it fits relatively well)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I am incredibly sorry about the delay in getting this chapter out! Not only did writing it absolutely kick my ass, I had a lot of things going on as well. Regardless, I hope that you enjoy!

     Waking up for the second time was disorienting. The sun had risen enough that it was no longer shining directly through the blinds and his stomach was complaining loudly; it had to be past noon at the earliest. Ray hadn’t moved an inch and Michael had lost feeling in his legs. His glasses were perched crookedly on his face and he didn’t have the heart to risk waking Ray up just to move his arms and fix them.

     He was finally beginning to shake off the lingering drowsiness from sleeping too long when Ray’s phone started ringing shrilly on the coffee table. Michael barely had time to flinch before Ray was bolting upright and halfway off the couch, one arm wind-milling for balance and the other grabbing for his knife. He settled down after a few seconds once he realized there was no real threat, and then snatched the phone and glared at it.

     “ _Fuck,_ ” Ray breathed out. He declined the call and typed out a quick message before dropping his phone back on the table.

     “Good morning?” Michael tried, raising an eyebrow. “Who was that?”

     “Fucking Geoff,” Ray muttered, looking at his phone like it was about to leap up and bite him. “I promised I’d check in with him every day while I was recovering and I kind of sort of completely forgot to yesterday.” His eyes widened. “Oh god, Griffon is going to fucking _murder_ me—“

     “Who’s Griffon?” Ray winced. He looked ready for the floor to swallow him up.

     “…Geoff’s…wife.”

     “He’s married?!” Ray nodded. Any lingering sleepiness Michael had left in an instant. He’d always known that Geoff tended to be a sneaky bastard, but he’d also give you the code to his safe if you got him drunk enough and there was no way in hell he’d never accidentally mention his _wife._ “I’ve known him for years!”

     “I’ve known him longer.” Ray said solemnly, looking at his phone again. “Don’t ah…tell Geoff about this, please? He and Griffon like to keep their shit secret.” Michael nodded, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Geoff had managed to keep something so huge completely under wraps for _so long_. And how the hell did Ray know and not him? If he couldn’t see the sense in keeping something so risky in their line of work like that under wraps, he’d probably be able to find it within himself to be offended.

     “Does she know about the whole criminal thing?” He wondered aloud, only half expecting Ray to answer; he wasn’t sure how far he was allowed to push with the slip up of information.

     “Mhm. She doesn’t like to get wrapped up in it if she can help it, but there was this one time that some dickheads found their house and she—nevermind.”

     “You can’t just say that and leave me hanging!”

     “Dude, I don’t even think that you _want_ to know the things that woman can do with her chainsaw.”

     It was in that moment that Michael decided that he was already more than a little terrified of the woman he hadn’t known existed until a few minutes before.

-

     As it turned out, Geoff hadn’t just been calling to rip Ray a new one for making him worry over nothing. There was a mandatory meeting at the penthouse, one that they had come very close to sleeping through. The details of it apparently couldn’t be mentioned over the phone, but he wasn’t sure if the information was just that important or if Geoff was getting paranoid about people hacking into their tech again. It had taken a lot of willpower for Michael not to try to weasel information about Geoff’s wife from him, he knew it was a god-awful idea but his curiosity was only growing. But, he also didn’t want to suffer the wrath of Geoff or, more likely, cause it to fall on Ray for telling him in the first place, so he kept his mouth shut.

-

     In retrospect, they probably should have seen the repercussions of both of them arriving at the penthouse together with hair still mussed up from sleep coming. Michael figured that it could’ve been at least a _little_ bit worse if everyone was already in the meeting room when they walked in, but he sure as hell wasn’t counting his blessings when Jack and Ryan quickly took in their appearances and Ryan let out a sudden, “Oh thank god, you two actually went for it.”

     Beside him Ray turned still and his face went very, very red. Michael was pretty positive that his cheeks looked the same.

   “We’re not—I mean, we didn’t—“he tried, voice stuttering as he tried to find the right words. Ryan had just enough time to look embarrassed (for either them or himself, Michael wasn’t sure) before Geoff burst through the door with Gavin in tow, the Brit balancing a laptop in one hand and an energy drink in the other.

     Either the two of them hadn’t heard what they’d been talking about or didn’t care, because the meeting took off immediately, Gavin grabbing a seat on a stool behind Ryan and patting his shoulder in greeting while Geoff started pacing back in forth in front of their bulletin board.

     “Remember those hired guns that were fucking with us a week or so back?” Geoff asked, casting a quick glance on all of them to affirm that they were paying attention. There were several nods and hums of confirmation, Michael saw Ray run a hand over where he’d been shot. “Well, a little birdie told me that they were hired by Funhaus.”

     Everyone groaned. They had an odd relationship with the other gang, sometimes working together for bigger jobs only to end up at each other’s throats again. It was some kind of weird…blend of a stalemate and a puppet war. Neither wanted to deal with the other directly, which lead to smaller gangs being hired out to mess with the other, and _that_ lead to a lot of headaches and wasted time trying not to get shot.

     Geoff turned to Gavin. “I want you to call in some extra hands on this, get Matt, Jeremey, Meg, Kdin, Lindsay, _anyone_ that you can rustle up, got it?” Gavin nodded and immediately went to typing out messages.

     “Jack, you’re on intel and supplies. We need to know if this move is bigger than it looks and have our shit ready if it is. Ray, Ryan, Michael, I don’t care what the fuck you do as long as it thins the numbers of their hired guns so we can heist again. Actually, wait—Ryan, you and Gav should start hunting down answers as to why the fuck this happened in _our_ city before we caught wind of it. Take phones off the bodies if you can, too, the more data to look at the better. Everyone understand?”

     Geoff looked around the room, seeming satisfied after a moment and clapping his hand together. “Alright! Let’s take these motherfuckers down a peg!”

-

     The tense, serious air in the meeting room dissipated as quickly as it’d appeared. Jack and Geoff were already out the door and getting to work while Gavin and Ryan had completely dissolved into technical jargon and were examining something on Gavin’s laptop. He and Ray were quick to escape _that_ conversation before they got pulled into it and wouldn’t be able to escape until their ears had been assaulted with all sorts of computer nonsense.

     With nothing to really be done until they had more information on who they were dealing with, they quickly resorted to idly walking rounds around the penthouse and acting like they were being productive. Ray was being quieter than usual; Michael wasn’t sure whether to chalk it up to the job announcement or what Ryan had said. Michael was willing to wager that it was probably a bit of both.

     It only took a few laps around the place before Geoff dismissed them on the grounds that ‘all of their pacing was going to stress him the fuck out.’ They pretended to be offended, but happily took the chance to leave work early.

-

     Ray came back home with him. It wasn’t even a spoken agreement, Michael had just shot Ray a quick look when they reached the turn for Ray’s apartment and waited to see what he said. He didn’t respond, instead fidgeting with the string on his hoodie and looking straight ahead. His face was a careful blank, one that he’d seen often enough on jobs where emotions were a liability. It was obvious that somewhere between the penthouse and the car ride he’d started mulling something over. Michael didn’t want to bring up the elephant in the…car, or rather ask what the fuck it even specifically was, so he kept going straight ahead towards his place, figuring that Ray would bring it up when he was good and ready.

     The car ride was much quieter than it should’ve been, even with the radio on. Michael just gripped the wheel tighter and tried his best not to stress about it.

-

   The silence followed them all the way to his apartment. There was still the aftermath of the night before scattered around, empty soda cans littering the coffee table and a throw pillow on the floor halfway across the room. He didn’t want a repeat of the whole debacle of standing in the doorway from the night before so he went straight for the kitchen; after the past 24 hours he needed a beer.

     Ray trailed awkwardly behind him, somehow looking out of place even though he’d hung out in Michael’s apartment more times than he could count. Michael opened the fridge and gestured inside before grabbing a bottle.

     “Want anything? I mean, I know beer’s not your thing but I have other shit like…” he trailed off when he locked eyes with Ray. He had his arms curled around himself and he was staring very intently at the floor. If the night before had been any indication, something awkward that would probably make him rethink everything was about to go down. Fun stuff.

     “I want to talk about what Ryan said.” Oh god, it _was_ going to be one of those things. “Like, the thing he said about us banging.”

     “I mean, I figured that.” He let out a forced laugh, shutting the fridge door and turning to face Ray, not making an effort to close the gap between them. “What about it?”

     “He wasn’t joking when he said he thought we’d fucked.” Michael envied Ray’s ability to sound so _casual_ about it, even he could see in his face that he was just as stressed about the conversation as Michael already was.

     “He’s Ryan, is something like that the weirdest thing he’s said?”

     Ray shrugged. “This was different. He wasn’t trying to be weird or funny or anything, he really thought it was something we’d done. I dunno, man.” He fidgeted, opened his mouth and then closed it again. “What if…he wasn’t wrong?”

     “Ray, what the fuck?” was out of his mouth before he could stop it. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting from the conversation, but it certainly wasn’t _that._ “I mean, I like to think I’d know if we were banging, and I’m pretty sure we aren’t.” The joke came out weak, but it was the only sort of reply he could manage.

     “I mean, we could, like…” He broke off into a series of confusing and vaguely lewd hand gestures, the charades doing jack-shit to help clear up the storm of confusion in Michael’s mind. “It could be fun?” He tried carefully, rocking on his heels like he was ready to bolt at any second. Michael could understand that at least, even if he wasn’t the one who had initiated the weird mess his desire to run past Ray and out the door was growing. Fuck emotions for being weird, fuck _him_ for actually considering what Ray was saying. His brain had apparently decided to take a vacation, because he was answering before he could stop himself.

     “So like, a friends with benefits thing?” The tension leeched from Ray’s shoulders, like he’d been expecting some sort of furious response.

     “Sure? Fuck, I’m sorry for saying this out of nowhere I mean, I guess we can just roll with it?” Michael took a moment before answering, running it over in his head before he committed to something of that magnitude. On one hand, it could lead to some awkward situations down the road and if the crew found out they’d never let them live it down. _._ On the other, they were grown ass adults and they’d known each other for years, they could probably figure it out. And who knew, maybe it would help sort out his weird ‘crush on Ray’ thing because if he was honest, that felt way more awkward to him than the idea of banging the guy.

     He let his face fall into an easy grin. “Fuck it, let’s do it.”

     “So this is a thing?”

     “Yep, friendship and super-hot gay sex.”

     There was a beat of silence, and then they doubled over laughing, because the whole thing had felt so dramatic and _tense_ but it was really just petty and fucking _hilarious_ once they’d made it past the rough start. He laughed until his cheeks hurt and he was gripping at the counter for support, Ray in a similar position a few feet away.

     “Oh god, oh my god—I’m crying holy shit—“Ray wheezed. “We’re idiots, this is great.”

     “Just wait until you see my sweet moves, and then we’ll talk great, baby.” He gave the worst wink he could muster and it set them off laughing again.

-

     They lost a lot of time like that, firing off awful pick-up lines and jokes back and forth, until finally they lapsed back into silence.

     “So, what do you want to do now?” Michael asked, swallowing nervously because even if he was fine with it and they could already joke about it, it was still something brand new.

     “We could, uh…” Ray went right back to the hand motions, this time ones that Michael could actually understand.

     “Are you trying to say that you’re going to suck my dick?” Somehow, after everything they’d said, _that_ was what made Ray blush. He nodded carefully, leaning off the counter.

     “It’ll be like…a brojob.”

     “Oh my fucking god, you are the worst person alive. Ray, that was awful.”

     “So that’s a no?” Michael rolled his eyes.

     “It’s a yes. Please never use that word again, though. It sounds like it crawled out of the pits of a ninth grade locker room.”

-

     The whole situation doesn’t feel weird until after the fact when they find themselves sitting on opposite ends of Michael’s couch. It’s a far cry from the night before, he almost laughs out loud at the comparison. From cuddle-buddies to friends with benefits in less than twenty four hours, god damn. He had no idea what was going through Ray’s head, but if it was half as confusing as what he was thinking, he certainly pitied him.

     Maybe he was an idiot, but he’d thought that the ‘brojob’ would make his crush situation better, not a million fucking times _worse._ He’d thought a lot of things after receiving a blowjob before, but he’d certainly never been bothered by a fact as inconsequential as “ _but we didn’t even kiss before.”_ Even if it was _just_ some arrangement they’d figured out, there still should have been some sort of progression, right? Was it rude to have just gotten right on with it? Could he kiss Ray _now_?

     Ray let out an, “So, that happened.” at the same moment Michael offered an eloquent, “Uhh…”

     They laughed, even strained as it was, it’s comforting.

     “You didn’t even take me to dinner first,” he tried weakly, the closest to the truth he could bring himself to say. Ray laughed, genuinely this time, and Michael counted it as a victory.

     “You know me, dude, I just go straight for the D.” He shifted uncomfortably, eyes flicking around the room for a way to change the subject. Michael recognized it easily, he’d seen Ray use it as a conversation-saver dozens of times. It was sort of weird to watch Ray try to figure out ways to talk to _him,_ but he’d sort of accepted that things would be getting weirder after his abrupt realization from the night before. Ray perked up when his eyes landed on Michael’s shelf of games. “How about we play some video games? Sucking your dick was fun and all, but I kind of want to kick your ass in Black Ops.”

-

     A few rounds in, it was almost like it hadn’t happened at all. He knew that they should probably talk about it but fuck it, Michael was totally fine with brushing it under the rug to deal with later. It wasn’t the perfect situation, and he was beyond certain that he’d probably lie awake that night and freak about that whole situation and where he and Ray stood now.

     But, that could wait. For now, he needed to fucking destroy Ray at Black Ops, the smug bastard was wiping the floor with him.

     What they had made his head hurt to think about, but it was something good, he was beyond sure about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this story started with three core elements. One was to add in another story I'd already written (that will come into play around chapter six) and another was removed entirely. The third, the glorious third, was to make the brojob joke. That's right, 9000 words of buildup for one joke that I find way funnier than I should  
> I can't promise another update in November since I'm hard at work on my story for this year's Ragehappy Secret Santa, but I will do my best to get the next update out sooner!   
> As always, I'm a sucker for comments and if you want to say hello my tumblr is willowsandwonders

**Author's Note:**

> Papa Geoff all the way  
> I've done a bit of writing ahead so unless I'm too busy there should be a chapter every week or two, I'll try to work out a proper update schedule soon  
> My tumblr is willowsandwonders, if an update is going to be late I'll probably say something about it on there  
> Thanks for reading!


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